


Insult to Injury

by ACertainZest



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACertainZest/pseuds/ACertainZest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate version of the backstory to episode 5x19, "The Lives of Others." What if Castle's knee injury wasn't from skiing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kate Beckett paced back and forth across the small waiting area outside the luxury ski resort's medical facility. She plopped down into one of the cushioned waiting chairs, fidgeted, got up, paced some more. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, stared at it, put it back in her pocket.

She caught sight of herself in the small mirror by the exit, and groaned a little. Oh god, she still had sex hair. She tried to tame it with her fingers, to no avail.

At last the door leading to the examination room opened, and the resort doctor looked out. "Detective?" she said softly.

"How is he?" Beckett asked anxiously, hurrying over.

"I'm afraid the kneecap is broken," the doctor told her gently. "I've put a temporary brace on it, but he'll need to be evaluated for a cast or custom brace."

"Oh god," Beckett groaned. "It's his birthday in two weeks and we're supposed to go to Bora Bora."

"Ooh," the doctor said sympathetically. "I hope your flights are refundable. Mr. Castle will need to keep the brace on and keep the leg straight for four to six weeks." She patted Beckett on the shoulder. "Now, I can have the resort staff take you to the local hospital, or, if you prefer, we can get him into your own car and you can take him back home. The brace I've put on should be fine until you can get him to a hospital in New York."

Beckett dithered briefly, twisting her fingers together. A broken knee? Oh, this was going to be ugly. "Is he, will the car ride be too much?"

"Nah." The doctor smiled. "I gave him some pretty powerful painkillers, so he's out of it. He claimed to be in a lot of pain."

"Yeah, he can be a big baby," Beckett sighed.

"He also offered me a large sum of money to put this down as a skiing injury in my report," the doctor added, smiling slightly. Beckett raised her eyebrows.

"Really? That, uh, doesn't surprise me." She blushed suddenly, realizing that this meant the doctor knew what had really happened.

"Believe me, Detective," the doctor said with a wider grin, "you'd be amazed how many injuries I've treated here that were, shall we say, bedroom-related."

"I'll bet," Beckett murmured. The place did bill itself as a romantic retreat, after all.

"Listen," the doctor said, "why don't you go pack up and bring your car around, and I'll have some of the staff help get Mr. Castle into the car. He's not going to wake up any time soon, anyway."

"Okay. Thank you."

So Beckett went back to the beautiful suite where they had only managed to spend one of the planned three nights. As she entered, she caught sight of the clothing and outerwear scattered haphazardly across the floor, and she winced guiltily. This was all her fault. She had spent all morning out on the slopes teasing Castle -- winding him up with unsubtle jokes about poles and sliding and going down -- giving him light tastes of kisses on the ski lift each time they went back up -- and by the time they got back to the room they were red-faced from more than just the cold, panting and sweaty from more than just the skiing. 

Castle had watched her peel off her snowpants, jacket, and sweater, and then, unable to wait any longer, he had pounced, pinning her against the wall, still in her underwear. It was hot, hard, and fast, and probably would have been the precursor to at least two more rounds, except that his knees had given out and he'd fallen to the floor and yelled with pain.

Sighing, pushing the memory away, she bent to collect the items from the floor. She opened the closet and took out their two duffel bags and began throwing clothing in at random. It was completely at odds with her usual methodical packing style, but she was flustered and anxious, worried about Castle and what the next few weeks were going to look like.

She briefly considered calling Martha and Alexis, but decided to wait. There was no point in worrying them now, when there was nothing they could do. She would call them when she got Castle to the hospital back in the city.

A diffident knock on the door heralded the arrival of the resort's assistant director, who, Beckett quickly realized, had been delegated to do damage control. The doctor must have kept her word and called it a skiing injury. 

Beckett reassured the man that she and Castle had no intention of suing, and, in relief, he offered to have his staff finish the packing and ship the rest of their gear back home to them. Gratefully, Beckett accepted, and took just one of the duffels with her, containing a few clothes and their assorted valuables.

By the time she got the bag to the car and drove around to the front of the medical building, the doctor and two burly resort security guards had wrestled a barely conscious Castle out the infirmary door. Beckett eyed the huge brace encasing his leg, and was suddenly glad that he had decided to rent an SUV for the weekend, rather than drive up in his Ferrari.

The doctor and her two ad-hoc assistants efficiently loaded Castle into the car, moving the passenger seat back as far back as it would go and then maneuvering him into the seat and fastening his seatbelt while Beckett watched in amazement.

"He should be good to go," the doctor said, handing over a small bottle of pills, "but if he wakes up and is still in pain, he can have another Percocet. Not more than one until he's been seen by a doctor in the city."

"Thank you," Beckett said, and they were off.

An hour and a half into the drive, Castle stirred, groaning, rolling his head back and forth, blinking and squinting against the late-afternoon sun. "Beckett? Beckett?"

"I'm right here, babe," she said softly, reaching over to pat his uninjured leg.

"What - Where are we?" he asked groggily.

"We're in the car," she pointed out. "Headed back to the city, back to New York." She paused. "You broke your kneecap, Castle."

"I what?" 

"You-" But when she glanced over, he was out cold again.

They repeated the same conversation twice more over the next couple of hours, but the fourth time, he seemed more coherent and alert.

"I broke my...?" He struggled to sit up fully, looking down at the brace. "I don't remember..." He sat still for a moment, just blinking as his brain slowly kicked into gear. "Oh my god. Ow. That really hurt, Beckett. Shit."

"Sorry," she offered, not sure whether to laugh or cringe. "Are you in a lot of pain now?"

"No," he said, sounding surprised. "She must have given me the really good stuff." He gave a little gasp as more memories came back. "Kate, the doctor - did she-"

"She put it down as a skiing injury," she reassured him, unable to hold back her grin. "Apparently you offered her quite the bribe, but I think she would have done it anyway."

"Good. Good." He slumped in his seat, shaking his head. "I, I broke my knee during wall sex? But wall sex is one of my favorite kinds," he said mournfully.

"All sex is your favorite," she couldn't help laughing, "and technically you broke it after, not during."

"This isn't funny, Beckett. Promise you won't tell anyone either." He reached over clumsily -- those must have been some damn good drugs -- and grabbed for her hand. "Promise."

"Relax, babe." She shifted his hand back onto his leg, and patted it. "I don't particularly need anyone knowing that much about our sex life either."

"Good." He tried to twist in his seat, and groaned again. "Ow. Damn it."

"Just sit still, Castle. We're almost back to the city, and we're going straight to the ER to get a proper brace put on."

* * *

The next few days were remarkably calm, as Castle spent most of the time sleeping or dozing on his couch in a drug-induced stupor. On Monday and Tuesday, Beckett went back to work, leaving Castle in the care of his mother and daughter, the three of them having worked out a schedule to ensure that he wouldn't be left alone.

But by Tuesday night, he was feeling better enough to be restless and cranky. "Take me to the precinct tomorrow," he implored, sitting on the edge of his bed, with his injured leg in its brace sticking awkwardly out. "I can help with the case."

"You're not recovered enough yet," Beckett told him gently. "You need to practice with the crutches, and start tapering off the drugs."

"I don't need to taper. I'll just stop taking them."

"I don't think that's a good idea," she sighed, stroking his shoulder. "You're still getting that pained look every four hours like clockwork. Just give it a few more days." He pouted thunderously, but she ignored it and changed the subject. "Now, we do have to talk about your birthday, old man." She gave him a teasing pat on the cheek. "It's less than two weeks out now, and we can't do the island getaway, so we need a new plan."

"Don't want a new plan," he sulked.

"I know, but come on, it's your birthday. At least we can have a nice night out at your favorite restaurant, right?" She sat carefully down next to him. "Maybe a movie, or a show. As long as it's not past your bedtime, gramps." She nudged him lightly with her elbow.

But his eyes only clouded further, and he looked at her with a strange expression.

"What?" she asked, frowning a little. He didn't answer. He just lifted his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her over for a kiss. It was hard and hot, maybe a little desperate. She kissed him back, but tried to gentle it, dial down the intensity. She felt guilty enough about the whole situation as it was, without getting him all worked up when they couldn't do anything.

But he wasn't letting her slow it down. "Come here," he rasped, and curved his arm around her waist to pull her closer, twisting his upper body toward her. He kissed her again and then trailed his mouth along her jaw. His hand slipped under her shirt and upward, teasing her breasts through her bra.

"Castle," she murmured, trying to gently push him away, "stop it. You can't."

"I can," he mumbled, nipping at her earlobe. "Look, I'm following all the doctor's rules. I'm not bending the leg or putting any weight on it." He pushed his hand inside her bra, finding her nipple and rubbing his thumb over it. She shivered and tried again to pull away. Her body couldn't help responding to him, even when she knew she needed to keep him from doing anything stupid.

"Rick," she sighed, tipping her head back to grant him better access to her throat. He took it, dragging the flat of his tongue across her skin, sending waves of heat through her. She couldn't quite hold back a moan, feeling the damp ache grow between her thighs.

"Let me do this," he said, almost pleading. He kissed her mouth again and pulled back a little to meet her eyes. "If there's nothing else I can do, there's still this."

"...What?" she asked, her voice less steady than she would have liked.

He dropped another quick, tantalizing kiss on her lips, still teasing her nipple with his fingers. "If I lie flat on the bed," he husked against her cheek, "you could sit on my face."

"Oh," she gasped, desire flooding her. It was probably a terrible idea, but she couldn't quite see why -- he had fogged her brain too thoroughly with lust. His touch was intoxicating, and she hadn't had it for three whole days.

Castle pulled his hand out of her shirt, leaned back. "Take your pants off." There was a note of command in his voice, a dominant tone that he rarely used, that he knew she would respond to. He slid his body carefully backward onto the bed until he was sitting in the middle of it, his injured leg lying across the mattress.

Slowly, she stood up and unfastened her pants. Her legs were already trembling with need. "I don't know if this-" she began, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

"Please, Kate. Just do it."

She exhaled shakily and nodded, thinking fuzzily that it would be just like him to have spent all day contemplating what they could do in bed without risking further injury.

She stripped off her shoes, pants, and underwear, and then, because it felt odd to be half-clothed, took off her shirt and bra also.

Castle had lowered himself back and was now lying flat on the bed, his head on the pillow, his neck turned to the side to watch her. His eyes were dark and she knew how much he had enjoyed watching her strip, even though she hadn't made any effort to turn it into a performance like she sometimes did. 

"Come here." He held out his hand and she came forward to take it.

Tugging on her hand, he coaxed her to climb onto the bed, and then he wrapped one big hand around her thigh and pulled it across his body so that she was straddling his ribs. Both of his hands came up to cup her buttocks and she sucked in a harsh breath, already incredibly turned on.

He pulled her forward, lowering her onto his open mouth, and she had just enough time to grab for the headboard before his hot wet tongue was parting her lower lips and slithering through her wetness. She moaned and pressed her hips down against him, her knuckles whitening where she gripped the headboard.

He worked her over with his talented mouth, licking and sucking avidly while she clung to the headboard and struggled to keep from just grinding onto his face. One of his hands slid up her stomach, across her ribs, and enveloped a breast, kneading firmly. Her gasps and cries of pleasure filled the room.

She was trying so hard to stay aware of his leg, to avoid too much movement that might jar it, but when he pressed two fingers up inside her and suckled strongly, she was gone. She gasped his name brokenly as the climax swept over her. He stayed with her, stroking and licking softly while she shuddered through the aftermath.

Finally she swung her leg back across him and collapsed onto the bed, panting, curling in carefully against his fully-clothed body, tilting her head up for a sweet kiss. He smiled at her, but there was still an edge to it that she didn't really understand.

"Good?" he asked softly. She smiled back, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek.

"Amazing." She kissed him again, and noticed the bulge in his pants. Guilt flashed through her again, and renewed arousal. She slid down the bed to work at the button and zipper, licking her lips in anticipation.

But, much to her surprise, he stopped her. "No, don't," he said, sounding almost angry, pulling her away with a hard hand on her shoulder.

She sat up and looked at him, bewildered. "What's wrong?"

"I just, I don't want you to," he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

"But Castle, you're so-"

"Just don't, okay?" he snapped, and turned his face away, and refused to respond any more, no matter how much she asked or pleaded. She crawled around to the other side of the bed to see his face, but he turned it away again, his fists clenched, his whole body rigid and tense with an anger she couldn't comprehend.

Finally she gave up and took her clothes into the bathroom, her hands shaking. She held back tears as she cleaned herself up and got dressed. What had happened? She couldn't understand it. It had been a long time since she'd seen him so closed off, so inexplicably angry and unresponsive to her.

When she came back out, intending to press him again to tell her what was wrong, she found him fast asleep and still scowling.

Biting her lip, blinking moisture from her eyes, she carefully pulled the comforter over him. Then she took a book from his shelves and went out to the living room to pretend to read until Martha came home. Beckett deflected the older woman's questions and went home, frowning and anxious.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Beckett was back at the precinct, staring at the murder board, but her thoughts were far away. Specifically, of course, her thoughts were on Castle and the not-really-a-fight last night. He hadn't called her that morning to beg her to bring him to the precinct, and she was wondering whether she should call him, or go over there, or...?

Her dilemma was resolved, or so it seemed, by the appearance of Martha, who showed up at the precinct just before lunchtime, looking unusually subdued.

"Martha?" Beckett said in surprise. "Is something wrong? You didn't leave Rick alone, did you?"

"No, no, of course not," his mother denied. "Alexis's afternoon class was canceled, so she came over to help Richard practice with his crutches." She paused, and asked in a lower voice, "Can we talk in private, Katherine?"

They sat side by side on the sofa in the lounge, where Martha leaned forward to put her hand on Beckett's knee, and sighed. "Darling, I don't know what happened between the two of you yesterday, but, well, Richard asked me to tell you not to come over tonight."

Beckett's gut clenched with dismay. "Oh," she managed, shocked. Was this it, then - the end of them? But they were just getting started. She hadn't even told him that she loved him yet. Her whole body felt frozen. She had to blink, hard.

"Oh, my dear." Martha shifted closer to her on the sofa, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Please, don't start imagining the worst. This is just a bump in the road. He loves you, darling, so much."

Beckett relaxed, just a fraction. "I love him too," she whispered. "I just - I just wish I knew what's bothering him. He wouldn't tell me."

"No. I couldn't get a word out of him either," Martha agreed. "He's a terrible patient, isn't he?"

Beckett tried to laugh, but it wouldn't come. "I guess..." she said painfully, "I guess this is part of why I dropped out of sight, after I was shot. So that none of you would ... see me like that."

"Ah." Martha regarded her shrewdly. "You hid yourself away during your recovery out of fear, Katherine. Fear of being vulnerable, being seen to be vulnerable. Fear of Richard's feelings for you."

"I..." She wondered if she were really that transparent. But she also could see where Martha was going with this. "I think I get what you're saying. What is he afraid of, then?"

Martha lifted her free hand in a gesture of helplessness. "If I knew, dear, I would certainly tell you."

"You know," Beckett said slowly, "all this ... our fight yesterday ... it all started when I asked him what he wants to do for his birthday." She paused, looked at the older woman. "Do you think that's it? He's upset about having to cancel our trip?"

Martha pursed her lips. "It's possible. He certainly has been looking forward to the tropical getaway with you."

"Martha," Beckett said determinedly, turning to face the other woman more fully, "I want to do something special for his birthday, to make it up to him. Something big." And in a flash she knew what it was. She remembered him a few weeks ago, during the reality TV murder case: _Is this your Valentine's Day gift to me? A complex mystery where nothing makes sense? You know me so well!_

"I want to stage a murder," she exclaimed, the insight popping out of her mouth as quickly as it had popped into her brain. "We'll arrange it so that he thinks he's witnessed a murder, and he'll try to solve it from the apartment. Like a modern-day _Rear Window._ " She grabbed Martha's hand again. "Will you help me?"

Martha's face split into a wide smile. "What a fabulous idea, darling. Of course I'll help. We can use some of my acting students as the characters, and you and I can work out the script together. He'll love it."

"I hope so."

* * *

At the end of her shift, Beckett reluctantly went home to her own apartment instead of back to Castle's loft. She still didn't understand why he didn't want to see her, but she wasn't about to push. It would probably be easier for him to rest and recuperate without her around, anyway.

But she missed him. Her bed felt cold and empty. Despite Martha's reassurances - despite telling herself again and again that people often behaved irrationally and incomprehensibly when injured - she couldn't shake the fear that something had really gone wrong between them. Her stomach was queasy, and her head ached from trying to figure it out.

* * *

The next day, Beckett and her team solved the murder case they had been working on. After finishing the paperwork and eating a hasty lunch, she called Martha.

"Do you think it would be okay if I came over?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh, darling. Please do." She could hear the smile in Martha's voice. "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but he's spent half the morning asking whether you've called, or whether I think he should call you."

"Oh," Beckett got out, briefly dizzy from the surge of relief that flooded her body. "Oh, uh, good."

"Do you want me to put him on the line?"

"No," she said hastily, "no, I'll just ... be there in a few minutes."

After she hung up, it only took a glance at Ryan and Esposito; they gave her a matched pair of nods, indicating that they would cover for her with Gates if needed. She grabbed her purse and coat, and took off.

Martha let her into the loft with a somewhat forced smile. "Terrible patient," she murmured, low, and then raised her voice to call, "Oh, Richard, look, Katherine's here."

Castle appeared in the doorway from his study, awkwardly steering the wheelchair, his expression hopeful and anxious and maybe a little embarrassed. "Beckett?"

"I'll leave you two alone," Martha said ungracefully, and exited hastily.

"Hey, Castle," Beckett said tentatively, walking toward him. He sat in place, his leg sticking straight out, watching her approach.

"I'm sorry," he said when she drew within arm's length.

"No," she started to say, but she couldn't help herself, and leaned down to kiss him instead. The flutters of nervousness in her belly melted away when he stretched up eagerly toward her, his hand lifting to cup her cheek, his mouth soft and sweet under hers.

"I missed you yesterday," he said against her lips. "I was so stupid, sending my mother to - I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," she promised, feeling as if her heart had just now started beating again. "I know it sucks, being stuck here like this."

"I'm getting better with the crutches, though," he said, his face lighting up like a little boy's. "Watch this." And he reached for his crutches and showed her how he could lever himself up out of the wheelchair and onto the couch. She resisted the urge to help, with some difficulty.

She wanted so badly to ask what had gone wrong the other night, why he had gotten so upset. But the words wouldn't come. He clearly wanted to pretend it hadn't happened, to go back to their familiar easy rhythm, and it was too tempting to resist going along with it. Later, she told herself; she would find the right moment and the right words to bring it up, later.

When he was seated on the couch, he reached out a hand to her, and she took it, coming to sit next to him. "See, I'm almost ready to come back to the precinct," he said hopefully, and she just smiled, kissing him softly.

"You'll be good as new before you know it," she hedged, and then, to distract him, she told him all about the case they had just closed. He listened eagerly, and asked questions, and gave a little satisfied sigh when she had finished.

"I wish I could have seen that guy's face when you arrested him," he said a little wistfully, and then, "I really missed you yesterday."

"I missed you too," she sighed, leaning into him. They kissed for a few minutes, slow and tender.

But soon Castle grew passionate again. "Kate," he breathed, pulling her even tighter against his side, his hands roaming her body. She sighed and kissed him again, lightly.

"Castle, you still can't-"

"I know, I know," he interrupted quickly, "but - just let me..." His hand slipped inside the waistband of her pants. She gasped a little when his thick fingers brushed over her damp flesh, but she twisted away, trying to stop him.

"I can't stay very long," she managed. "I'll have to get back to the precinct soon. Don't you want to-"

"This is all I want," he told her hoarsely, flicking the button of her pants open to give his hand more room. His other hand was pulling her shirt up and he bent down, awkwardly, trying to get his mouth to her breasts. But the leg brace constrained him and he couldn't quite twist far enough.

"Kate," he said wetly against her collarbone, licking and then biting down hard enough that she gasped and jerked under him. "Help me out here. Lean back."

"Castle, no, you shouldn't." Her protest sounded weak and unconvincing even to her own ears, and her hands were at odds with the words, fingers twining in his hair, pulling him tighter against her.

"The hell with shouldn't," he complained, shoving his hand farther inside her pants. His fingers rubbed across her, hard, and she gasped again, louder.

"You can't go back to work like this, can you?" he said against her neck, and she could hear the grin in his tone. The smug bastard. He knew just what he was doing.

And he knew just how to touch her, just how to scratch his stubble across her neck while his tongue painted words on her skin until she twitched and clutched at his shoulders, her breathing fast and erratic. So before she knew it she was moving to accommodate him: tilting her body back until he could get his tongue twisted around her breast; sliding her hips down the couch to give his hand better access. His fingers slipped and stroked through her like sweet torture, and his teeth closed around her nipple and she moaned his name when she came, writhing on his couch like a horny teenager.

Afterward, he sat up straight again, looking down at her with a small smirk on his lips but with that same strange look in his eyes that she had seen the other day. She sat up as well, trying to fix her clothing, staring at him. But she still didn't quite have the courage to ask, after the other day.

She could see his desire straining at the seam of his pants, but she didn't have the nerve to mention that either.

She kissed him quickly and went into his bedroom, grateful that she had a small stash of extra clothing here for, well, "emergencies." She found clean underwear and pants, and went into the bathroom to put herself back together.

When she came out, Castle was back in the wheelchair, looking out the window at the bustle of the city. She stood next to him for a moment, her hand on his shoulder, looking.

In the silence, she noticed a "For Rent" sign in one of the apartment windows across the way, and her eyes widened briefly with excitement. She made a mental note of the location, then carefully smoothed her expression and turned to meet Castle's eyes, his face turned up to her.

"You have to go," he said regretfully.

"Yeah." She sighed. "But I'll, I'll come back for dinner? If you want?"

He reached up and took her hand between both of his. "I do want. Always, Kate."

_What the hell happened the other night?_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she still couldn't quite get it out. She felt like such a coward. She sighed again.

"Okay. I'll see you tonight, then." She kissed him once more and left.

* * *

On her way back to work, Beckett stopped in at the building next door and spoke to the manager, who gave her the contact information for the rental agent. A couple of quick calls from the car and matters were proceeding nicely.

"Everything okay?" Ryan asked quietly when Beckett got back to the precinct.

"Yeah. I guess," she shrugged. "I think he's just restless and cranky."

"Understandable," Esposito offered.

"I know, but it's only the first week. He's going to be insufferable by the end of the four weeks." Which reminded her that she would need to enlist the boys' help with her birthday surprise for Castle. She beckoned them into the break room and told them about her plan. Both were enthusiastic.

"Count me in," said Espo, and Ryan nodded.

"Definitely. This is going to be fun."

"Detectives," said Captain Gates from the doorway, "you've got a case."

"Think we'll need to get her in on it too?" Esposito asked sotto voce as they headed out to the new crime scene.

"Probably have to at least clue her in," Ryan opined. "Just in case."

"I suppose so," Beckett said, and then redirected their focus onto the real case at hand.

* * *

Getting the new investigation started took all afternoon, and Beckett had to call Castle and apologetically tell him that she would be late for dinner, but he took it in stride. "Alexis is here," he said, a little breathlessly, "and we're practicing with the crutches some more. She's quite the taskmaster."

"Don't let her tire you out too much," Beckett fretted, but she trusted Alexis to know her father's limits. In any case, it was only another half-hour before Beckett was able to call it a day, leaving the case in the hands of CSU and Perlmutter.

Dinner at Castle's loft was a quiet affair, involving takeout Indian food and a good deal of conversation about Alexis's college classes. Castle seemed his usual self: asking his daughter questions, quizzing Beckett about her college days, and recounting some college stories of his own, only mildly scandalous. By the end of the meal he had begun to slur his words and look a little pinched around the eyes, so Beckett made him take another painkiller and go lie down while she and Alexis cleared away the dishes.

This also gave them a chance to confer about the birthday mystery plan. Martha had filled Alexis in on the bare bones, and Beckett took her to the window to point out the vacant apartment, which she had already reserved with a substantial deposit. Alexis volunteered to get Castle a pair of binoculars, planning to present it as a joke gift to keep him entertained during his convalescence.

When they had finished discussing, and the kitchen was clean, Alexis gathered her things to leave. "I should say goodnight to Dad," she said, "unless you think he's fallen asleep?"

"Let me check," Beckett said, and tiptoed to the bedroom doorway, but Castle was sitting up in bed, playing on his iPad. Beckett gestured Alexis in, and then retreated to give them a moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Alexis promised when she emerged, and squeezed Beckett's shoulder briefly on the way out.


	3. Chapter 3

Castle was maneuvering himself to the edge of the bed as Beckett came back in; he had dropped his good foot to the floor and was swinging the other leg in its brace over the edge of the mattress. "Going somewhere?" she asked, and he startled.

"Just coming to find you," he said, smiling, but looking a little nervous. "Or do you have to go too?"

"No, no. Someone's got to keep an eye on you overnight," she tried to tease, smirking a little when he huffed with indignation.

"Just for that," he said, and tugged on her hand to make her sit down on the bed next to him, and he kissed her hungrily.

But she pulled back, firm this time. "Castle. We have to talk about this."

"Don't wanna talk," he said, nearly a whine. "Just want to touch you, taste you." He leaned into her, seeking, but she turned her head so that his mouth landed on her cheek.

"No, come on. You're," she looked down at his lap, "you're so worked up, Castle, and you won't let me do anything about it. Why? Why did you get so upset with me the other day?"

"Not upset with you," he denied, pulling back, meeting her eyes briefly, then looking away, his face flushing. "Not you."

"Then what? Castle, please, talk to me," she implored, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Why won't you let me ... help you with that?"

"I just..." He turned his face away again as the words finally began to burst free. "It makes me feel like an invalid. It's too much like how we'll be when I'm old and can't even feed myself any more. You'll come to the nursing home twice a week to visit me and give me a pity hand job, and you won't tell your husband, because he wouldn't understand. You'll just do it and then clean me up, pat me on the shoulder, and leave."

For a long moment Beckett was entirely speechless, her mouth hanging open in disbelief at the absurdity of the story he had painted.

"What on earth..." she choked out finally, "Castle, how - how would you ever imagine that I'd marry someone else, if you were still alive?"

"What?" he startled, and she realized that her phrasing had maybe not been the most elegant.

"And it's certainly not pity. How the hell - You know how much I enjoy going down on you," she exclaimed, and then winced again. It was certainly clear who wasn't the wordsmith in this relationship.

"But that's when you choose to do it," he muttered, "not when you have to because it's the only available option."

"Castle. Rick." This wasn't how she had envisioned saying it for the first time, but it felt necessary. She put her hands on his cheeks, turning his face to her. "I love you. I don't offer you blow jobs or hand jobs out of pity, and I'm not going to abandon you when you're in a nursing home, or, or any time before that. I _love_ you."

"Kate," he breathed, searching her face, his eyes shining. She leaned forward to brush her lips across his.

"You're stuck with me, old man." Her tone was light, but she saw his expression cloud over anew at the words, his eyes sliding away, and something clicked. "Oh, Castle. Is that what this is about? That I've been calling you-" Another lightbulb went on. "Is this about your birthday, getting older? Is that what's going on?" She pressed his face back around to her, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I'm older than you, Beckett," he said toward her shoulder. "Getting older all the time."

"You're not that much older than me," she protested, "and it doesn't bother me. It never seemed to bother you either."

"No," he agreed, "but that was before ... this." A gesture toward his immobilized leg.

"A temporarily incapacitating injury, causing awareness of your own mortality? Isn't that a little clichéd for a writer of your caliber?" she said gently, rubbing his shoulder. His lips twitched slightly in acknowledgement of the joke, and he finally met her eyes again.

"It's not about my mortality. It's about being too old for wall sex. Too old to keep up with my incredibly hot girlfriend." He pursed his lips and looked away again. "Too old to satisfy her."

She blinked. "To satisfy me?" For the second time in just a few minutes she was quite literally speechless.

"Castle ... that is the craziest thing I've _ever_ heard you say," she managed at last. "We've been together for almost a year, and the sex is still..." She couldn't help blushing a little. "You know perfectly well that you always satisfy me. Repeatedly."

"Yeah," he said, not smiling, "but that's now. What about five years from now? Or ten?"

Her breath stuttered in her throat. Five years, ten years? He saw them that far out.

Well. Didn't she? Hadn't she just said she wasn't going to leave him, ever?

"What if I break something else?" he added into her silence. She blinked again and shook her head.

"Babe, it was a freak accident. It has nothing to do with how old you are. Lots of men younger than you don't have the strength for wall sex." She scooted a little closer to him on the bed. "Is that what all this has been about, seriously? You broke your knee so you're worried that someday you'll be too old to keep up with me in bed?" Suddenly his insistent need to bring her off with his mouth and hands these last few days made a lot more sense. "Castle, that is just ridiculous."

"Well, when you put it that way." A light flush colored his cheeks and his expression softened, beginning to look embarrassed. "I think an incapacitating injury entitles me to be a little ridiculous," he huffed. She smiled a little and let her hand fall onto his thigh.

"Sure it does. But come on, I would have thought this would be right up your alley. Having to get creative, figure out what things we can and can't do to work around this."

The beginnings of a smile curled the corners of his mouth. "I'll admit I've had a thought or two along those lines." His face fell again briefly. "But I really am going to miss wall sex."

"Oh, Castle, for goodness sake. Listen." She waited until he met her eyes, and spoke firmly. "I don't care about wall sex. I don't care if all we do is cuddle. I just want you."

Castle's mouth twisted, and he pulled her against him for a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, his voice shaky. "I've been an idiot."

"Yeah, but you're entitled," she mumbled against his chest. Her hand moved, lightly caressing his thigh. She slid her other arm around his back and squeezed, then pulled back to look into his face again. "Now will you let me do this for you?" Her hand moved higher on his leg, stroking, hinting. "Please?"

He bent his head and captured her lips. His tongue pushed against hers urgently, his hand flirting with the bare skin of her waist just underneath her shirt. She slipped her hand sideways and palmed the heavy weight of him through his sweatpants, making him groan against her mouth.

"Castle," she gasped as he turned his head to nip at her earlobe. He shivered against her.

"Yes," he muttered, "god, yes, Beckett, please."

Swiftly she disengaged from him, sliding to her knees on the floor in front of him. She nudged his good leg aside to make more space for herself between his thighs. He stared down at her, breathing hard, as she quickly tugged his pants and boxers down and freed his erection, which was already pulsing and dripping moisture from the tip. She licked the bead of liquid away with a quick flick of her tongue, wrapping her hand around his shaft, stroking up and down a few times until he groaned deeply.

"Hold still, babe," she reminded him, laying her other arm across his good leg to keep him in place. And then she lowered her head and took him into the wet heat of her mouth.

"Oh god," he gasped, and she felt the wound-up tension of his body, the effort it cost him to keep his hips still as her lips slid along his shaft.

She was a little worried about him re-injuring himself, but in any case, she knew he wouldn't last long after all the self-denial of the past few days. So she didn't try anything fancy. She just moved her head up and down on him, sucking and swirling her tongue the way she knew he liked.

And she was right: it didn't take long at all until he was groaning her name and spilling down her throat, his hands clenched in the bedspread so tightly she thought she could hear the fabric creaking.

Gently, she ran her tongue over him one more time and then tucked him back into his pants. She rose to her feet and smiled at him. He sat panting on the bed, gazing up at her with a look of fully satiated adoration from behind a sweaty lock of hair that had flopped over his eyes. When she reached out to smooth it back, he captured her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, hoarsely.

"Stop that," she said just as quietly. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Castle."

He tugged her closer and dropped his hand to the button of her pants, tilting his head up to catch her eyes, silently asking. Her breathing quickened in anticipation. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shifted even closer, letting him pull down the zipper and slip the pants off her hips.

When his hand slid between her thighs, she gasped, bracing her hands on his shoulders. He reached up with his other hand and tangled it in her hair, bringing her mouth down to his, pressing his tongue between her lips and stroking it along the roof of her mouth. He matched the rhythm of his tongue with the thrust of his fingers inside her, his thumb rubbing tight hard circles until she moaned into his mouth and shuddered around his hand.

They slept better that night than they had on any other night since the accident, curled up together in Castle's big bed.

* * *

The next evening, both redheads came to dinner at the loft, and it was a pleasant affair, the conversation louder and rowdier with Martha present than it had been the night before. After the meal was over, when Castle went to the bathroom, the three women put their heads together for a hasty conference about the birthday plan.

"I went ahead and made us a dinner reservation," Beckett whispered, "because it would look too suspicious if I didn't have any plans at all."

"I got the binoculars," Alexis put in, "and I thought I'd give them to him just a few days before, because it's not close enough to his birthday yet."

"And I've arranged a fake spa retreat," Martha added, "so it won't seem odd to him when I disappear for a few days in order to handle my directorial duties."

"Let's get together sometime this weekend to finalize the script," Beckett suggested, and then they heard Castle's crutches catch on the bedroom door frame, followed by a muffled curse, and they quickly moved apart before he came back into view.

"Ice cream?" he suggested, and they all grinned.

An hour later, with Martha and Alexis gone off to their respective activities, Beckett found Castle in the bedroom again, sitting up in bed with his laptop and phone.

"How's the pain, babe?" she asked, sitting down carefully next to him.

"No pain right now. It's only been an hour since my last pill."

She looked into his eyes and was pleased to see that the pinched look he'd had since the accident was receding. "Good," she said with relief.

"I had a chat with the orthopedist today," he said, just a little too casually, closing the laptop and putting it aside.

"Really?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, wondering what he was up to. "I didn't know you had an appointment."

"I didn't, but he was nice enough to agree to a Skype consultation."

Beckett tilted her head curiously. "And what did he say?"

"He suggested reverse cowgirl to start with," he smirked, and laughed out loud at the expression on her face.

"You … you asked him about sex?" she managed, a bit strangled. Still grinning, he nodded.

"Yep. Thought maybe if I got his official approval, it might carry more weight with you than my adorable puppy-dog eyes."

"Not that I don't adore your puppy eyes," she chuckled, kissing him lightly, "but what exactly did the doctor say?"

Castle widened his eyes deliberately. "He said that it would be okay as long as we're careful and stick to positions that don't put too much strain on the knee. Like reverse cowgirl."

"He mentioned that position specifically?" she asked, letting her extreme skepticism come through in her voice.

"Well, not as such." He grinned sheepishly. "I might have said, 'you mean like reverse cowgirl?' and he said 'I suppose.' But that totally counts."

She tried to laugh, but his hand was on her knee, wide and hot through the thin fabric of her dress pants. He leaned forward and she couldn't stop herself from tilting into him, meeting his kiss with a low moan, sliding her hands up under his t-shirt.

"Beckett," he said into her lips, his hand moving higher on her leg. "Is this a yes?"

Her breath hitched in her throat. "Oh god," she gasped. His hands were suddenly all over her and her body was thrumming with need. It felt like it had been forever since she'd had him inside her. "Yes," she hissed against his cheek, "yes," and a moment of clarity broke through her lusty haze, "but you have to lie still and let me do the work."

He pulled back a little and grinned widely into her eyes. "Like I'm going to argue with that?"

"Castle," she groaned. "Shut up…" but suddenly her lips curved into a smirk, "...and watch."

She slithered away and stood next to the bed to strip for him, slowly this time, giving him a show. The way his hungry eyes followed her was incredibly exciting; by the time she was down to just her bra and panties, the panties were soaked and the bra was straining its seams from the deep ragged breaths she drew in.

She dropped the bra on the floor and Castle reached out for her, murmuring "Let me."

She moved closer to the bed, and his hands found her breasts, kneading briefly, drawing one into his mouth. The nipple was already tight with excitement and she gave a little cry when his tongue dragged across it and then away, only to do the same on the other side.

Castle's hands moved to her waist and he slowly pulled her underwear off, his thumbs teasing at the tender insides of her thighs as he drew the scrap of cotton and lace down. His palms slid down her legs, igniting fire across her skin the whole way down.

The panties fell to the floor and he leaned back a little to look at her, standing gloriously naked in front of him. The depth of emotion in his eyes took her breath away and she swallowed through a dry throat before whispering, "Lie down."

Never taking his eyes off her, he slid farther down the bed until he could lie flat again, carefully arranging the injured leg in its brace across the mattress. The instant his head hit the pillow, her hand was inside his pants, eagerly wrapping around him, drawing a heartfelt groan from his throat.

"Beckett," he rasped desperately, and she pushed his pants out of the way to free his erection as she climbed onto the bed, returning the intensity of his stare with her own.

She threw a leg over him and straddled him backwards, but before she could move, his palms closed around her thighs and pulled her higher, toward his mouth.

"Oh god," she moaned, already shivering with pleasure before he even got her into place. Then his tongue was on her and she shrieked his name, bracing her hands on his stomach as he devoured the wetness flowing freely from her.

But as she felt her climax building, she broke free from his hands and pulled away, groaning a little as his mouth painted a wet line down her thigh.

"Kate," his strained voice floated up from underneath her, but she squeezed his hand with hers and slid forward again.

"I need you inside me," she husked over her shoulder, and heard him gasp brokenly. The evidence of his excitement was right before her eyes and she seized it, wrapping her fingers around it and dragging it through her center. They both moaned at the contact.

Leaning back, she braced her hands on the mattress on either side of Castle's ribs, undulating her hips down against him. She took him inside, inch by inch, drawing gasps and moans from both of them with every twisting thrust. The position pressed his entire length tightly against her front wall, creating sparks of incredible pleasure that fizzed through her with every movement.

His hands roamed her body, stroking the tops of her buttocks, squeezing her thighs, circling her torso to tease at her breasts. When he swept the hair off the back of her neck and trailed his fingers firmly down her spine, she shuddered strongly, whimpering toward the ceiling, her inner muscles clutching at him. He groaned in response and she felt his hips thrust involuntarily up at her.

She stilled, twisting her neck around to glare back at him. "Don't move," she ordered, her voice throaty and deep. Her eyelids were half-closed and she knew how much he loved that smoldering over-the-shoulder glance.

Sure enough, that look, and the sound of her voice, undid him; he could only whine desperately, his fingers closing hard around her hips, urging her to move faster. She was only too happy to comply, the delicious heat building in her belly as she squeezed her muscles and slid up and down on him. He managed to slip one hand around her hip and between her thighs, rubbing just right, and she exploded in a perfect rush of sensation, taking him along with her.

Gasping, her legs trembling, Beckett eased herself off of Castle and collapsed next to him, sprawling limply across his sweaty chest. His arm curled around her shoulders and she felt him lightly kissing the top of her head.

"Remind me to send that doctor a thank-you note," he murmured hoarsely, and she snickered against his chest.

"Oh yeah. I bet he'll love that," she muttered, smirking a little, her eyes drifting shut.

"Are you falling asleep?" Castle asked softly, his hand stroking her shoulder.

"...Maybe."

"You should. It must be exhausting, taking care of me." He paused. "Um. I didn't mean that to sound dirty, I swear."

With an effort, she lifted her head to smile at him. "I'll take care of you any time, Castle." She smeared a soft kiss onto his mouth before letting her head fall back onto his chest.

"The dirty way, or the regular way?" he asked, his voice rumbling against her ear, and she could hear the smile in it.

"Yes," she mumbled, letting her eyes fall shut again.

* * *

_**Two Weeks Later** _

"You do know that now I will have to get you back," Castle said with a twinkle in his eye, pulling Beckett onto his lap in the wheelchair. She just smiled, still riding the high of the successful birthday surprise. She couldn't quite believe that they had pulled it off, and that he had loved it so much.

"Oh, really?" she murmured as he steered the chair toward the bedroom. "And you think that you can top that?"

"Oh, just you wait and see," he grinned mischievously. "But speaking of topping…" He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully, and she laughed, squeezing his shoulders. From her perch on his lap, she could already feel him against her hip, and she was pretty sure she knew how he wanted the evening to end.

"Reverse cowgirl again?" she asked teasingly as he wheeled them right up next to the bed. He shook his head, eyes sparkling.

"Oh no, I have lots more ideas. In fact," he said, undoing the button of her jeans, and then the zipper, "before you so skillfully distracted me with that fake murder, I had started writing a whole list."

"Is that why you've made such slow progress on the book?" she exclaimed, half in outrage, half amused. He chuckled low in his throat, bending down to kiss her chest as his fingers found the bottom of her sweater.

"Not at all. I'll have you know I am extremely good at multitasking," he murmured huskily, pulling the sweater off. "Allow me to demonstrate."

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of my readers. I hope you enjoyed the resolution of this little piece. Upon re-watching the episode I found myself intrigued by the thought of how Castle might feel about the combination of the injury and his approaching birthday, and the age gap between him and Beckett which rarely gets addressed directly on the show. So I wanted to play with it a little. I would love to hear your thoughts.


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